Prompt Post

Dec. 7th, 2016 04:06 am
[personal profile] ffxv_kinkmod posting in [community profile] ffxv_kinkmeme
 Welcome to Round One of the FFXV Kink Meme!

CLOSED for prompts | OPEN for fills

Please have a look at the extended rules here.

The important rules in short:
  • Post anonymously.
  • Negative comments on other people's prompts (kink-shaming, pairing-bashing etc.) and personal attacks of any kind will not be tolerated.
  • One prompt per comment. Warnings for common triggers and squicks are encouraged, but not required.
  • Prompts should follow the format: Character/character, prompt.
  • Keep prompts to a reasonable length; prompts should not be detailed story outlines.
  • Fills should have the word "Fill:" at the start of the subject line.
  • Otherwise please avoid changing the subject line.

Please direct any questions or report any problems to the Ask a mod post.

Prompt, write, draw, comment, and most importantly have fun!

(You can also check out our Pinboard for Filled or Unfilled prompts)

UPDATE 12/30/16: I'm looking for some help! Details here.  (I'm always looking for more pinners; this is an open invitation.)

I've added/clarified some rules to make life easier to my pinners. Please refrain from changing the subject lines except when filling or updating a fill. It makes it easier for us to keep track of what we've already looked at. Thank you so much!

UPDATE 1/28/17: We've opened up a Drabble Tree post! Go check it out

UPDATE 2/21/2017: ROUND ONE IS CLOSED FOR PROMPTS. Please feel free to continue posting fills. Round Two will open for prompts and fills on 3/1/2017.





 
From: (Anonymous)
This one is Cor-centric, (and dad-centric) but y’all will be getting Prompto’s point of view in the next part.


-----------

Cor thought he was being discreet.

It started with careful requests for an hour of a break after lunch. Instead of retreating to the training yards, Cor started taking walks out of the Citadel. He passed through the residential houses just along the outer wall of the palace, peering up at their high walls and over tidy gardens and patios. He found a park he’d never even seen before, and a café that served coffee he could recognize. Whenever he found a realty sign or a for lease box, he carefully wrote down the numbers on his phone and put them away for safekeeping.

He certainly had enough for a house. His quarters in the Citadel were free, and Cor was not liberal with his funds—He had a savings account that was truly staggering in size, thanks to over twenty years of service to the crown.

But this was all purely hypothetical, of course. It wasn’t as though he were planning to move. At least, not right away.

Still, it didn’t hurt to take a look at just one house, did it?

Autumn was just breaking through the muggy heat of summer when Cor felt like he was ready. Prompto had been weeks without an incident, and while he did shake sometimes and had a tendency to startle at loud noises or sudden contact, he was quickly adapting to his new life. The young men who continued to visit him had much to do with this. They were constantly dropping in, or carting him off to adventures that had him staggering in late, throat hoarse with talking and sore with the effort of smiling. Noctis lent him some of his old clothes, and Cor had taught him one or two tricks he’d learned in decades of bachelordom—Prompto and Cor could be found most afternoons sewing patches and scraps of cloth to Noct’s old vests and jackets, making them into something more in line with what Prompto wanted to wear. Cor knew from his own life in the military that controlling what you wore was a source of power, and wasn’t surprised to find that it was as true for Prompto as it was for members of the Lucian military.

Throughout this, Cor’s resolution held firm. He would need to bring up the subject with Clarus, first. It would be cruel to suggest anything to the boy, only to find that the tentative plans forming in Cor’s mind were impossible to achieve. So one morning, he walked into Clarus Amicitia’s office for his daily briefing and steeled himself to ask the question that would change everything.

“Cor!” Clarus cried out, before Cor could speak. “I have a proposition for you.”

Cor stopped in his tracks.

“When was the last time you visited me at home for drinks, Cor?”

“Two years, now,” Cor said, utterly lost. “Clarus, what is this in reg—“

“Then it’s been too long.” Clarus rose from his desk. “Regis and I were talking, Cor. We think you may need some taking out of yourself. Come to our place tonight, and we’ll have a talk.”

“Of. Of course,” Cor said, unable to find his train of thought again. The older man smiled down at him benevolently, and clapped him on the arm.

“Good man. We’ll expect you at eight? Of course we will.”

And then Cor found himself being swept out of the room and deposited in the hall outside, speechless and confused, with just the barest seed of trepidation growing in his heart.



Not much had changed about the royal manor since the last time Cor had the chance to visit. When Jared, the butler, bowed him through the front entrance-way, Cor saw that there were new paintings in the foyer and along the walls, and a third weapons rack in the reception room—Iris’, he supposed. He turned to find that the princess in question was in fact walking through the far door into a branching hallway, lugging a giant, green-clad crow doll in both hands. It was so large that it tilted the thirteen-year-old off balance, and she heaved it up in her arms to keep it from slipping. She caught sight of Cor and smiled.

“Mr. Leonis,” she said. “Daddy said you were coming. He and Dad are in the drawing room.”

“Thank you, your—“ Cor stopped as the doll started to slip again. “I’m sorry, but why the—?”

“Oh, Kenny Crow?” Iris’ grin was a wicked copy of Clarus’, all teeth. “It’s nothing, really. Just some good old-fashioned revenge.” She winked and walked off down the hall, dragging her slightly unsettling prize after her.

The drawing room was through a smoked glass and brasswork door off the side of the reception room. Cor stopped there a moment, wondering if he ought to knock, when he heard a voice call out from within.

“Don’t hover, Cor, we can see you through the glass.”

Cor smiled wryly and pushed open the door.

Clarus and Regis sat in large leather armchairs, leaning over a glass coffee table. When Cor entered, he saw the king draw back, but the man’s hand still lingered on Clarus’ knee. He was wearing a black silk dressing gown with gold embroidered birds along the sleeves, and Clarus looked strangely out of place in sweatpants and an oversized flannel shirt.

“You’ll have to take us as we are,” the king said, noting Cor’s gaze. “It’s been a long evening.”

“You’d think a crown prince would know not to read his sister’s diary,” Clarus said, in a tone that implied this wasn’t the first time he’d voiced this opinion.

Ah, Cor thought. That would explain the “revenge.” He stood there a moment, uncertain, before he caught Regis’ baleful look and sat in one of the empty chairs.

“I don’t recall if you drink, Leonis,” the king said. “I can’t, of course. Something in my magic rejects it—but Clarus swears the brandy is very good.” He lifted down a decanter and a small crystal glass.

“I drink on occasion, Your Majesty,” Cor said, “but you don’t have to…” He stopped at the look Clarus leveled his way.

“Have a glass,” the older man said. “You’ll need the courage.”

“Don’t scare the man, love.” Still, the king poured Cor a generous amount, and he felt a twist of worry in the pit of his stomach. “And house rules, Cor. No titles here. Call me Regis.”

“Yes, sir,” Cor said, automatically. Clarus raised a hand to smooth out a smile, and the king shook his head. “Thank you. Regis.” Cor took the proffered glass.

They all sat there a moment in silence, Regis putting away the decanter, Clarus regaining his composure, Cor feeling like a disobedient student being called to the dean’s office for punishment detail. At last, the king spoke.

“Do you know why we asked you here, Leonis?” he asked.

“Aside from requiring the pleasure of your company,” Clarus said, with a sideways grin. Regis cast him a stern look, and he crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair.

“I thought,” Cor said, slowly, “this might have to do with my recent request to move to off-site housing.”

“In part,” said Regis. “Curious, really. How long have you worked with us? Twenty-two years? Such dedication. Most men in your position would have moved out of the Citadel years ago, found a suitable partner, settled down.”

“I’m not the settling down sort, Your—Regis.” Cor had resigned himself to this sort of speculation over a decade ago. While he didn’t begrudge others their desires for lovers or partners, Cor stayed largely disinterested on his own behalf. He had friends, and wasn’t lonely by any means, but saw no point in forcing himself to pursue a romantic entanglement for the sake of it.

“But here you are,” Clarus said. “Forty years old, looking at houses. Spacious ones, too.”

“The one on Rose Street looked very tasteful,” said Regis.

Cor frowned. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the king spying on his movements. Regis correctly interpreted his look and shrugged—a gesture Cor wasn’t used to seeing from his monarch.

“You can’t deny that your behavior has been… erratic, of late.”

“I haven’t been shirking my duties, Y—Sir,” Cor protested. Regis raised a hand in surrender.

“No, of course not. But your priorities seem to have changed.” His stare was far too knowing. Cor knocked back the drink in his hand and focused on trying to keep the burn of it from showing on his face as it went down. Clarus waved his hand, and Cor mutely handed the glass to him for a refill.

“Perhaps it is time you stated your intentions regarding the Magitech prisoner, Cor,” said his king. Cor watched Clarus fill his glass halfway, and took it back from him gratefully when offered. He took more time with this one, trying to buy a moment to collect his thoughts.

At last, he set the glass down on the coffee table.

“This isn’t how I’d like to ask,” he said, “but I’d like for the boy to be released into my custody.”

“Your custody,” Regis said, as though it were a question.

“As his guardian,” Cor continued. The silence in the room stretched uncomfortably. “I know how this sounds—“

“Cor,” Clarus said, in a kind voice, “You can’t just adopt a prisoner of war.”

Cor took a slow breath before replying. “He can’t stay in the cells forever,” he said. “The kid never had a chance to have a normal childhood, but he’s—“

“Do you believe you’re equipped to give him one?” Regis asked. “What do you know of children?”

“Not much,” he admitted. “But I know soldiers. And I know Prompto. He isn’t the monster the Empire tried to make of him.”

Clarus shifted in his seat. “It would be harder to keep an eye on him, outside of the Citadel.”

“House arrest, then,” Cor said.

“What will happen when you are called out to the field?” Regis asked, in a sharp tone. “Who will look after him? The Scientia boy, possibly, but he has his own duties. The boy can’t be trusted alone in my sons’ companies. Will you leave him to roam your residence, possibly even the city, on his own?”

“If it comes to it,” Cor said, in a louder voice than he’d intended, “then with respect, Your Majesty, I will have to retire.”

Clarus’ shoulders straightened. Cor felt a flush rise to his cheeks—He’d never spoken to the king in this manner before. But the king only looked at him, a faint smile on his lips.

“That’s the right answer,” he said, quietly. Cor drew back in confusion, and Regis crossed his hands in his lap. “Being a parent entails sacrifice, Leonis. I would not feel comfortable leaving a wounded young man in your care if you were not willing to rise to the challenge. And Clarus spoke to Ignis Scientia a few days ago. He agreed to watch the boy when you are called away.” His eyes darkened, and Cor caught the flickering light of purple magic in the king’s bright irises. “The crown has need of you, still, Marshal.”

“There will be restrictions,” Clarus added. “It will take some time.”

“But it can be done,” said the king.

Cor stared at them, entirely undone. “Your Majesty, I don’t know what to—“

“Regis,” the king said, with a smile.

The somber mood in the drawing room broke to the sound of furious voices in the distance. Clarus groaned.

“Dad!” The door slammed open, revealing a pajama-clad prince Noctis. He was wild-eyed, his hair hanging over his forehead, chest heaving with righteous fury. “That monster was in my room again—oh, hey, Cor—with her daemon spawn.

There was a hysterical giggle from the hall. “His name’s Kenny Crow,” Iris called, “and he loooves yooou.”

“Don’t torment your brother, Iris,” Clarus called. “And Noctis, don’t call her a monster.”

“You taught me not to lie, Dad,” Noctis said, through gritted teeth. Clarus glanced over at Regis.

“Don’t look at me, love. They get it from your side,” Regis said. Noct groaned and flung himself away from the door, clearly disgusted with his parents’ lack of sympathy. Iris cackled.

The king turned to Cor with a weary sigh. “You have much to look forward to, Leonis,” he said, as the dulcet tones of sibling-fueled chaos descended in the adjacent hall. Clarus laughed and rose to his feet, then slapped a heavy hand on Cor’s back.

“The joys of fatherhood,” he said, and strode off to survey the damage.


From: (Anonymous)
*pterodactyl screech* THIS. IS. SO. ADORABLE.

Oh my god, he's started looking for HOUSES?! Ahhhhhh!!!!

And and and and, omg Iris ahahaha
From: (Anonymous)
as soon as i realised that iris had a kenny crow doll i hoped she was going to scare noct with it AND SHE WAS BLESS
From: (Anonymous)
This fill fills my heart with joy. <33333333333
From: (Anonymous)
omfg, Noctis and Iris tho - "His name’s Kenny Crow, and he loooves yooou!" XD

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